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cattle. Cattle constitute the Kaffre's wealth, and are the constant object of his thought and admiration. He is always happy when he looks on his cows. He knows how to train the growth of the horns by nicking them. He teaches the bullocks to race, and constantly rides them. Instances are not wanting of great chiefs who classed their horned cattle in regiments, according to color, and trained them to join in the dance.

The Kaffre dress is very simple, and the wardrobe is not cumbrous with changes of costume. A fashionable Kaffre lady would not occupy much room with her baggage in travelling. The men are always bareheaded and wear a cloak of skin, called a kaross, which they wrap close around them in winter,

A KAFFRE WARRIOR.

with the hair inside, the exposed side being reddened with ochre. They are often tattooed on the shoulders, and wear copper, iron or ivory rings and strung shells on their arms and legs. The kaross of the chief is generally of the leopard's skin. The chief distinction of female dress is the cap of lynx-skin, with a tuft falling over the eyes.

On page 17 we present a view of a Kaffre village. It is composed of spherical huts, framed of branches of trees, plastered with mud and cow-dung, and covered with rushes or palm-leaves. The women have exclusive care of the houses, and on them also devolves the cultivation of the fields and gardens; but the soil is very rich and affords them little trouble. The women also prepare the skins used for clothing, beating and rubbing them

until they have completely pulverized the inherent gluten.

The people possess very beautiful formsthe men large, the women small-resembling the negro only in the thick lips and knotted hair. Their color is a dark iron-gray. The females are pronounced perfect in point of physical beauty, but, like Eastman's Fanny, they don't "know a thing.", Some years since, the late Mr. Cutting introduced several specimens of the Kaffre-"Cape Bushmen" called-to Boston, among the rest a young Zulu, one of the three tribes included in the territory of Kaffraria proper, whose manly beauty attracted the attention of every one. He was upwards of six feet tall, and had the carriage of a king. He claimed to be the son

of a chief, and when adorned with his feather helmet, somewhat similar to that shown in the engraving on this page, his wild and manly grace awakened the profoundest admiration. From these people we learned a great deal of the manners and customs of the Kaffres; their modes of conducting warfare, their hunting, their marriages, their prophets, exciting the deepest interest, it was so new. The poor fellows suffered greatly from our cold climate; one committed suicide, one was sent to the Bridgewater alms-house, and the two or three survivors were sent back, among them the princely Zulu.

Marriages among the Kaffres are never affairs of the heart, unless it be the heart of the parents, who have the making of all the marriages, the lady's option not being consulted in the pre

mises. Inconsiderate marriages are, therefore, not very liable to take place, and with content, from the long custom that sanctifies the practice, comes happiness. A recent writer thus describes the Kaffre marriage ceremony:-"Marriage ceremonies, like other native customs, vary among the different tribes; but the principal features are usually the same. The day having been fixed, the bride, attended by her friends, goes to the bridegroom's kraal, when the ceremony may take place immediately or be postponed to the next day. It consists mainly of dancing, an amusement that bears little resemblance to anything you have seen at home. The feet are lifted up one after another, and descend with a heavy stamp; sometimes the performers leap or jump up and down on each foot alternately. In all dances the men hold

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sometimes it is a my, at others they have a shield in the left hand and a stick assagai in the right; but whatever they carry it is kept in constant motion, while the lungs are occupied with a chant or song. The exertion required is very great, and makes this amusement a real labor. "We have now reached the kraal, and must go into the central inclosure or cattle-fold. The ceremony has begun. The bridegroom and his companions, you observe, are squatting on the ground at the upper end of the inclosure near the calves' pen; the bride's friends are dancing before them in a semicircle. The men are arrayed in their best, with shields and sticks. You wouldn't like to pound the earth with your feet and leap into the air as they do. The men, you observe, are in the middle of the semi-circle, the women being at the extremities. Their movements differ from the others. Notice those old wives outside the line of dancers; they belong to the bridegroom's party, and are chanting a song for the special behoof of the young lady; they are informing her that she has made an exceedingly good match, and must take care that it does not make her proud; she must conduct herself with becoming humility in her new position.

"The dance now stops, and the bride's father steps forward to make a speech. He counsels the bridegroom not to beat his daughter too much; he tells him that she will make an excellent wife, she has been so well brought up; he must remember that she belongs to a good family, and he ought to give far more cattle than he is likely to do. That young woman who leaves the semicircle is the bride herself. She dances towards the bridegroom, and shows her future lord how, well she can do it; but he is not master yet, and to prove this she kicks the dust in his face. He rubs his eyes, but he had expected some such practical joke, and perhaps congratulates himself that it was no worse.

"The bride's party now take the place previonsly occupied by the bridegroom's, while the latter perform a dance. This does not differ from the former one, and we need not stay to see it. When it is done an ox will be slain for the marriage feast, and the essential part of the ceremony concluded. Two other oxen have to be provided in connection with

the marriage." The men have as many wives as they can buy, but polygamy among them never runs to excess.

The doctors, or prophets, of which we introduce two specimens on this page, are the incarnation of craft and cunning. They are not without knowledge, but their lives are a trick and a deception, which their knowledge aids. They must be the sons of prophets, and educated for the seership by being set apart, and devoting a period to association with the spirits, through which they profess to receive their power of seership. By spies and informers they obtain information of everything occurring in all the families of

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KAFFRE SORCERERS.

their tribe, and by ingenious shrewdness they completely pull the wool over their simple countrymen's eyes, giving them an idea of their profound wisdom.

The Kaffres believe in witchcraft, but witchcraft, with them, is simply the power of doing injury to others. Regarding this they frequently consult the prophet. The injury may be affected by means of roots, a crocodile's liver, a piece of skin or bone, or almost anything. They know nothing of the nature of poisons, and deem their effects are the effects of witchcraft. The prophets, with their superior intelligence, may operate through this ignorance to an indefinite extent, and work or prevent all manner of evil. The power of

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SO AS BY FIRE.

CHAPTER I.

FOAM O' THE SEA.

BY MISS CAMILLA WILLIAN.

WHEN Burns apostrophized teeth-ache as the "hell o' all diseases," he could not have known what sea-sickness is.

He whose grinders or incisors are to him for the time the root of all evil may experience hope, desire, rage; but the victim of sea-sickness knows not hope nor fear, and if any desire visit his afflicted bosom, it is the desire for immediate annihilation. Pride and dignity fly as we approach this inferno, modesty and delicacy wither like flowers in the frost in the breath of its atmosphere, and the only sounds heard there are sighs, and moans, and ejaculations of despair. There is no curling of hair nor tying of shoe-strings in this nightmare domain, and its nectar and ambrosia are brandy and salt-fish eaten and drunk in bitterness, and rejected by the stomach with retching and agony unspeakable. Affection dies in the hearts of the seasick, man nor woman delights them not, and loathsome is he who would entertain them. They have no eye for the beauties of nature, and sublime sentiments are an abhorrence to them. A woman in sea-sickness is capable of going without her wig and teeth, and a man in the same will forget to listen when money is spoken of.

All this preamble is preparatory to introducing Miss Cora Ware to the reader, without detriment to that young lady's reputation for dignity, modesty and good taste.

The steamer Don Carlos encountered a storm (on her way from New Orleans to Boston), which for one day made her saloons and decks a solitude. On the second day, with a fair wind and sunny sky, a score or more of wretched beings made their appearance in dishabille in the morning, and by evening most of the others crept out in demi-toilet.

The next morning the passengers, with few exceptions, were as gay and lively as the fishes through whose element they were

cutting their way. This gala-day went out with a gorgeous sunset, the sky a curd of fire, from western horizon to zenith, and melting through scarlet, rose, crimson and violet, to the eastern horizon. The passengers were grouped about chatting with old acquaintances, manœuvering to form new ones, or watching the scene of air and water.

The only person who seemed to do neither was a gentleman who sat in an arm-chair in a corner of the after-deck next the saloon. This was a noticeable man both in make and expression. He was nearly, or quite, six feet tall, and although athletic, his height gave him an appearance of slenderness. It was only when a really slender man passed by him that one noticed how muscular he was. His complexion was fair but slightly tanned, his hair flaxen and soft, brushed in a smooth wave across his forehead, and pushed back at the sides, his long beard and mustachios of a warmer color, very nearly approaching gold.

I am not sure that I altogether admire the gentleman's eyes, which are a cold light blue; but his nose is perfect, rather long, showing ability, curved in the nostrils for spirit, high between the eyes where phrenologists locate form and color, and with that faint classic curve upward in the centre which makes the line of beauty. The general form of his head and face is long, but the forehead swells out at the sides in the inventive and mechanical regions, showing which way his ability is most likely to be effective.

A superficial observer would conclude, from a strong compression of the mouth and a certain fixedness of the face, that the man is stern and reserved; one better acquainted with him, or looking more closely, might guess that these characteristics, if they exist, are but consequent on a mingled pride and self-distrust, which may themselves be less the nature of the man, than the result of circumstances.

This gentleman's dress is a rough gray

travelling-suit, with a black felt hat drawn low over the brows; and one finical in such matters would be pleased to observe that he has a neat foot well-booted, and that these boots rest on the deck and not in mid air. Indeed, Mr. George Francis Burkmar, as his baggage is marked, is as notable for an air of quiet good-breeding, as for good looks.

He sat leaning back in his chair, his eyes wearing that curious veiled look which some persons can assume at will, when, without appearing to notice, they are really watchful · of everything that goes on about them. He did not stir, though ladies practised all their wiles to induce him to turn his head, but suffered the promenaders to move about him as the waters part and wash around a ledge. He appeared to think nothing worth a glance unless it was some far-off craft, or the glittering froth churned up by the steamer wheels, or the gay little frigate that danced past them and away southward, near enough for them to see the waving of handkerchiefs and hear a faint cheer across the glorified water. If his eyes dwelt for a moment on persons at the extremity of the saloon, he lost interest in them as they approached.

There was one exception, however, to his general disregard of his fellow-passengers, when two, who had been invisible since their departure from New Orleans, appeared in the door of the saloon and looked about for seats. One of these was a magnificent colored woman, a dusky Juno who towered above most of the men present, and leaning on her arm and shoulder was a lady who might in any other companionship have shown stately in height and build, but who looked delicate beside her slave.

Will the reader be so good as to remember what was said about sea-sickness at the beginning of this chapter? Miss Cora Ware has been suffering from it during the whole voyage, suffering more than ever during and since the storm, and is now only half alive. She needs this excuse, for her dress and manHer are anything but conventional.

A trailing wrapper of purple cloth hangs loosely about her, the only half-drawn girdle indicating, but not defining, a superb form. There is a glimpse of a white hand and wrist almost lost in the voluminous hanging sleeve, the point of which nearly reaches the deck. A mass of dark brown hair is tucked carelessly behind the ears, and twisted into some sort of nondescript knot at the back of the headrich, moist hair, and triumphantly her own,

but by no means, at this time, of satin smoothness. These particulars of toilet, with that air of mingled languor and recklessness peculiar to those in whom physical suffering has for the time deadened the fear of the terrible" on dit," the gentleman whom we have been observing took in at a glance; but the face demanded more than a glance. It was, of course, pale and weary; but through all its pallor and weariness shone a protesting fire and strength. Her manner showed the enforced submission of one unaccustomed to submit, and hating the restraint which she is unable to throw off.

This lady stepped haughtily, though unable to stand alone, and staggering a little occasionally, and looking for a seat, glanced about with a pair of eyes that were gray, bright and angry as an eagle's.

Nearly all the seats were occupied by ladies, but they did not find the air of this newcomer conciliating, so remained sitting. There was one vacant seat in the corner of the bench that followed the deck-railing, and toward that the lady directed her steps, sinking heavily into it when reached. The slave stood beside her mistress, forming a dusky bulwark between her and the other passengers, and tenderly supporting her with a strong arm.

"I shall tire you, Juno," said the lady, almost fretfully, yet in a voice of silvery music.

"No, honey! You jist lay still," was the reply. "I'se a gwine to stan' right here 'n hold your head. Lor, I aint no more tired now than that 'are post. This is restin', this is."

The lady sighed faintly, and resigned herself to be taken care of, leaning more upon her attendant, and looking off over the water with heavy, homesick eyes. Her complexion was a pale olive, and as she sat slightly in the shadow, her profile against the glowing sky looked like some fine bronze. The line of the profile was straight, with forehead and chin rather full, the upper lip short and curled back, and the nose straight and well-proportioned.

Mr. Burkmar, sitting motionless in his armchair, never took his eyes from this lady, watching her, it seemed, with a more critical than admiring gaze. He marked that her attitude was graceful in spite of its air of exhaustion, that her wrapper fell about her as though an artist had arranged its folds, and that the eyes were heavier than mere illness

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